


Justice

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Series: Torchwood Ficlets [4]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:28:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: A lesson
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Series: Torchwood Ficlets [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711324
Kudos: 18





	Justice

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in the process of reposting some of my older works. This is from my livejournal and was originally posted in 2007.

“What about justice?” Gwen shouted.

“If you want justice, you should’ve stayed with the police,” Ianto said dryly, wondering what the Captain had been about sending the newbie out with him on a clean up job. “Besides, justice for whom? They’re dead, Gwen. Wrong place, wrong time, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“So you just dispose of the bodies, create cover stories and go along like it’s no big deal? What is wrong with you people?” Gwen was flushed, angry, fists clenched as she spat words at Ianto.

“That’s my job,” Ianto responded, continuing to wrap the bodies up for transport. There were four, a family. Easy enough to make it look like a murder suicide, that the father had snapped after losing his job. Already Ianto was planning the hack into the man’s records to show the dismissal for inappropriate behavior, the trail of money he’d embezzled from the company, the mistress on the side.

“Look,” Ianto said softly as he respectfully dressed the bodies. “There’s nothing to be done. There is no justice we can give them. No one to bring to trial, no one to charge, no one to punish. They weren’t victims of a human crime, Gwen. Human justice means nothing.” He lifted the body of the youngest child, aged eight, and carefully placed him in the boot of the SUV. “I think you better call the Captain for a lift,” he suggested. She really wasn’t going to like what he was going to have to do later.

“No,” she stood her ground. “I need to see this through.”

Ianto shrugged and continued about the scene.

**

They drove to the hotel in silence, Ianto working from the computer in the back to create the documents he needed to lay out the paper trail. In the boot lay Mr and Ms James Johnston and their children Louise and Charles. They were on their way to Swansea for a vacation when Mr Johnston, after having been dismissed from his position within a reputable research firm, snapped, killing his family before turning a gun on himself. Ianto set up the paperwork to show the vacation plans, booked through none other than TorchFire Travel Agency.

Ianto dressed himself in a protective coverall and drew a weapon from the lock box in the boot.

Gwen stared at him.

“This is what I do, Gwen,” he said gently. “You don’t have to watch.”

“You’re – you – you’re going,” she couldn’t get the sentence out.

“I’m going to set the scene for the cover-up,” he explained. “I’m going to make it seem as real as possible so when the bodies are found, the police will know what happened.”

Gwen’s hands went to her mouth and he watched her shake for a moment before turning his back and stepping into the cheap hotel room that he’d charged to Mr Johnston’s credit card. Tosh would already be altering the CCTV footage.

Ianto took a steadying breath, saying a silent prayer before finishing the job, his knowledge of forensics, patterns, math making it easy enough to fake the scene yet make it real enough. He left the gun on the floor beside Mr Johnston and stepped easily out of the room, leaving no trace of himself behind.

**

Gwen was silent on the way back to the hub. She had wanted justice and all Ianto could give her was a lie shrouded in deception and darkness.

He let her believe he was the cold man she saw, who rarely interacted with any of them, who served the coffee and tea with the ease he put a bullet into a dead body.

What he didn’t let her see were the tears that flowed at night, the nightmares, the strong arms that held him close when the ghosts of those he had buried came back to haunt him.


End file.
